Ravishing in Red
by WiseEyes
Summary: For my friend Srah. Happy Birthday!


Dedicated to Sarah McClure. Happy Birthday!

"John! Where is my suit?" Sherlock screamed.

Said doctor bolted upright in his bed, his hand already reaching for the gun hiding under the pillow. The number of cases had started to take a toll on the doctor. Well not the amount of cases, just that they had recently started to become more violent with some murderer hanging just out of the light of a street lamp and ready to strike him down at any moment.

"I need my suit!" Sherlock screeched as he pushed John's door open. John just sat there in shock as his roommate and best friend ransacked his drawers.

"What in the... Sherlock stop."

Still the sleuth carried on as if the other were not watching him,"Do you hear me?"

"Really John. Red boxer briefs, aren't you quite the deviant," Sherlock smiled holding the scandalous material against his pelvis.

John glared at the other fighting down the redness in his cheeks," Do you know what time it is?"

He waited expecting an answer, but all he received was silence and the customary, _Johnathan you're an idiot _stare. Normally after a couple minutes of the stare, he would sigh and finally comply with the other's demands. At times like that he found it easier to do so, than to have a row, but he was in no kind of mood for this mess today. It was too early and he was too sore from their last case; one which ended with a bomb being strapped to a very scared John Hamish Watson!

"_Shirley." _Sherlock's back went ramrod straight. Slowly he turned to face John his mouth tight and his nostrils wide. Though involuntary, the doctor shrank back just a bit from the detective who now seemed to be leaned ever so gently over his bed with his his hands fisted behind his back. A pose which was only used around the elder Holmes Mycroft, or his next target shot victim.

"Yes John. What do you need?"

For a moment his mind blanked on what exactly it was that he wanted. He seemed to have gotten lost in his mind because he was brought back to attention when Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Yes. I want to know what is going on."

Holmes tilted his head eyebrows furrowed," I just told you. Where you not listening again?"

John chose to stay quiet knowing full well that not voicing an answer technically meant that the actual question itself had not been answered.

Sherlock shook his head," Hamish...well I guess you'll just have to figure it out." With that the super sleuth waltzed out of his room shutting the door firmly behind him.

Once he was sure that the door would remain closed, he slumped over already tired though the day had yet to begin.

" And John, I would put on some underwear before you come out. Not everyone is evolved enough to realize that it's purely for evaluative purposes that I allow you to roam around naked," he disappeared again.

It was only after the sleuth had brought it to his attention that the doctor realized that the noise he had been hearing all morning from outside was actually to loud due to his window being closed. Something glass broke in the front room making him flinch. He didn't think much of it, until he heard another glass break this time carrying with it the harsh crackle of Sherlock cursing at the perpetrator. Before anything really bad could pop off, he jumped into a random pair of jeans lying on his floor.

His front room was abuzz with the footfalls of at least a dozen people in official looking gray uniforms swarmed around, not one paying any attention to him in the slightest. Everywhere he looked, people were moving everything that just yesterday he had spent hours putting in some sort of order. He learned a valuable lesson then, that though the detective could probably solve any crime anywhere, there was no way in hell that he could put a room in any sort of order. The doctor would have laughed at the irony of that statement now as he had then, but his forehead was struck with the edge of his favorite chair. Just as the man walked past, he grasped him by the arm. The burly army cut brunette turned to him almost hitting him with the chair again, but he had an instinct that he should watch out for the clumsy brute, so it was easy to sway just out of the way.

" Whaadya want. Don't see that I'm busy?" he spoke with a Yorkshire accent.

John frowned at his rudeness, but all the same he wanted answers," Why ae you in my house?" he yelled over the clamor.

"Mister Holmes called up my company to move some furniture about. Are you Doctor John Watson, Holmes' famous sidekick?"

John glared at the term 'sidekick' but all the same he nodded. The mover put the chair down before turning to him again with an odd twinkle in his eyes. It almost made the Doctor back away from how uber creepy it was, but he held his ground.

"Then can I ask you a serious question sir?"

"Was that the serious question?"

"Funny. But no, I have a sister who reads your blog like some read the bible; and she wants to know if you and the detective are you know..." he went quiet apparently waiting on the last words to dawn on him, but John chose to remain silent. The mover apparently tired of waiting on him to catch the drift made the number six with one hand, and the number nine with the other before making them move up and down.

Politeness be damned, John stepped away from him hands up as a means of keeping distance.

"Hey I'm not asking for me. I'm asking on behalf of my sister. So stop acting like that."

Though his words sounded in Watson's ears, the way the burly guy looked at him made him feel that the reverse was true and that he was a total creeper.

"Of course not," he screamed from where he stood.

"Do you know where Holmes is?"

"No clue," with that he picked up the chair and once again joined the others in messing up what he thought was his one and only furniture masterpiece.

"Do what ya want, what ya want with my body," his back pocket suddenly started to sing. Growling at the stupid ringtone that the detective had no doubt downloaded, he pulled out his mobile.

"Sherlock what the hell is going on, and where are you?"

"Shirley's in the loo, but I want you, John Watson to go to 3628 North Umberfield. Talk to you later." With that Mycroft hung up not leaving any room for John to interject. Suddenly sleepy again, he called the taxi service and hung up with the promise of one being just around the corner from Bakers Street. Pushing through the crowd, he finally made it to the door.

"What's all the racket up there? Sounds like a bunch of elephants up there," Miss Hudson spoke up as John tried to pass her on the staircase.

" I have no idea miss Hudson. But I'm going to find out," with that he walked on out the door and straight into the taxi he was promised.

3628 North Umberfield was in a well to do business neighborhood. It was a little weird to Watson though, because it seemed to be the only building that seemed to actually have any life in it. Don't misunderstand, the buildings were nice, but for a Monday morning all of the lots were empty. All the same. He entered the stark white plain building. Inside, classic paintings from famous renown English painters hung.

"Come in John. I want to get this over with," Sherlock said walking through the massive office. He looked great in his navy blue blazer. John just stood where he was rooted to the spot. But the detective paid him no mind as he continued to pace. After the initial wave of shock passed, he walked on in and sat down on the comfy white couch against the wall. Still the detective paced. Neither said a word for a while.

"Will you please sit down! You're making me nervous."

Sherlock stopped in his tracks," Only those who have done something bad are worthy of being nervous. So what John Watson have you been doing?" he sat down as directed though.

"I'm glad you dressed for the occasion Watson," Mycroft said as he walked in the room in a pin stripe suit.

Frowning, he looked down noting that he had on a comfortable pair of black pants, a plaid shirt, and his favorite leather jacket. In fact this was his go to ensemble, so for a moment he was confused until the rude remark suddenly made a lot of sense. He looked up glaring at the elder Holmes, but soon gave up from will to not actually kill anyone today. Tomorrow was another day though. He smirked to himself as he concocted all the ways that Mycroft would die sprinkling in a little of Sherlock death as well, but he knew he would never act on it out of his sheer fondness of these two.

"What do you want Mycroft?" John asked.

The elder Holmes ignored him though. His gaze was locked on his brother who seemed wholly uninterested picking at a random hanging thread on the couch. Finally did look at Mycroft, but it did not speak of obedience or a willingness to listen. This gaze was one that challenged whomever it was directed towards, and dared them to challenge back. And when John finally broke away from the detective's steel stare, he found that Mycroft was dealing one back in full.

"Will both of you stop. Nothing is being achieved and I am sure that each of us has a full to do list today."

He looked at Mycroft, who for the moment regarded him with something akin to respect," Go on then."

"Fine, what I am about to tell you is a matter of national security. As you know the Prince and his wife will be here in London on Wednesday."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as a beautiful black haired secretary waltzed in with a stack of files. At least John thought she was. She paid no attention to any of the men though they paid it to her in full. John assumed that though the day was still young, she herself had already had a long one because some of her the hair swept back into a bun had come out and swept ever so gently across her forehead whenever she moved, and her black skirt was rumpled in back just above her toned calves.

"Here Mister Holmes, this stack needs to be complete by noon, whereas these two need to be finished by 3 so I suggest you take an early lunch today." with a tender smile she began to walk away.

She stopped at the entrance and turned again," and a good morning to both of you."

John smiled back kindly while the detective only glanced at her before returning to Mycroft. She smiled back before walking away. As if a trance had snapped, he came back to the conversation.

"I will need you and the doctor to stop him before any such act can take place. Royalty is paranoid as it is, we don't want to give them an even bigger reason to be like that."

"Why come to us for something like this, why not go to the police?" John interjected hoping to get a small recap of what had just transpired, but both Holmes only stared at him like he had spoke in a foreign language. Pinching his lips together, he sat back arms crossed.

Sherlock turned back to Mycroft," We'll take care of it." With that he stood to shake his brother's hand before taking his leave. John stood as well wishing Mycroft a good morning as he chased after the detective. The secretary from earlier sat peacefully in her office typing away, and for some reason he felt that even doing the most mundane thing, she was beautiful.

By the time they got back to Bakers Street the apartment was empty leaving in its wake tastefully set new furniture. For this John was happy, except when he noticed that his favorite chair was gone as well.

"Sherlock why did you get brand new furniture. Because I felt that the old furniture was making my mind move slow, I mean at my brother's ideas were coming to me at lightning speed, and even now as I look at the place my mind feels freer."

"You're the most rational person I know, and you're actually trying to sell me on 'it just makes my mind work faster'? I am the irrational one and I know that's bollocks."

The detective regarded John calculatively," The only irrational thing is the only reason you care is because you're favorite chair is gone. Where your motives are selfish, I brought a new vibe to the **entire**apartment."

Justified and knowing that the other wouldn't have a comeback, Holmes walked into the kitchen. Watson looked around loath to find that it actually did bring a new feel to the room. In the corner where his chair had once been, a batman black leather chair now sat. He checked to see that Sherlock was fully involved with one of his experiments before he slowly inched toward the seat. Carefully he sat down relishing in how soft and comfortable it felt on his backside.

" I knew you'd like it." John jumped as the detective's low timber voice whispered into his ear. He turned to face the detective not shrinking back from the fact that they were nose to nose, not a word passed between them; their eyes expressed everything worth saying. Sherlock dropped the daily newspaper in his friend's lap with a smart smirk.

Prince Harry and his wife were smiling gleefully on a float surrounded by confetti and smiling spectators. The print read," **Royalty in London: Revamping the Empire**." but what caught John's attention wasn't the fanfare, instead it was the red circle around Moriarty's grinning face. Even though he had on rayband sunglasses and over sized headphones, John would know that face anywhere.

"Sherlock! What's this?"

"What does it look like John. It's our new case."

"And what pray tell are we doing for it?"

"No idea, but because he was at that parade, Mycroft seems to belief that the man is planning something. He wants us to find out before the prince and his wife come."

John dropped his head sighing," You already have a plan don't you."

"Of course. Pimsley, the gun merchant texted me awhile ago that some strange woman came into his shop today and bought a rifle and silencer."

"Aren't those illegal?"

"To the general public, but not government agents."

"Does Mycroft know? And what does that have to do with Moriarty?"

"Mycroft checked up on the name she gave Pimsley, and it doesn't exist, not even in the American databases."

Sherlock grabbed his coat searching in all of the pockets before he pulled out a DVD, and put it in the player. He patted the cushion next to him just as it began to whir. The empty store came up in terrible gray pixels that sometimes frayed and ruined the image. Pimsley looked to be cleaning behind the register when someone in a black hoodie and raybands walked in. It seemed as if she knew exactly where the camera was because she leaned on the counter with her back to it. A melodic and definitely feminine voice asked for an X edition assault Rifle complete with a silencer. Like Sherlock had said, the man had originally said no until she handed him her ID. Taking extra precaution he ran it under his scanner and the seal showed to be official, so telling the woman to wait right there he went to the back.

The woman turned to the camera then and mouthed something to the camera. Pimsley returned with the merchandise for which the woman paid and exited. Something about her walk set off something in John's memory, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure it out. Sherlock rewound it back and pushed zoom.

"Mo-ri-arty."

"And there my friend, is the proof. Now since we know that he was there, we can assume that he will also be at the airport on Wednesday when the prince flies in. I want to know how that woman is involved though."

"Do what ya want. What ya want with my body." Sherlock smirked as John reached in his pocket for his cell. Though he didn't know the number, he answered it anyway," Hello?"

"Is this John Watson? This is Shara from Mycroft's building."

He frowned looking toward the detective who had already grabbed his coat and an umbrella. He pushed the phone from his mouth," What are you doing?"

"To Pimsley, he said he had more information to give me." With that Holmes was out the door closing it firmly behind him.

John sighed but all the same tuned back in to the woman on his phone," Shara is it? How did you get this number?"

"I know that it was wrong of me, but I pulled Sherlock's file and for some reason you were listed as his spouse."

For the second time today, he dropped his head actually entertaining the good ol' days when everyone believed he was straight, and Sherlock stopped making his life hard by listing him as a freakin' husband," I'm not gay you know. Sherlock was playing a trick."

"I hoped not because it would be a tragedy to the female species. But anyway, I wanted to know if you would like to... I don't know, go on a date with me sometime."

John sat back baffled by the gall of Shara. A woman had never asked him out before," Sure. How about Tomorrow at 6. Give me your address."

They talked well through the night straight into the morning. Where she fell asleep on the line. It may seem creepy, but he actually felt relaxed listening to her. But finally he hung up. He turned over on his back smiling up at the ceiling. They talked about any and everything. When John thought about it, they actually talked about nothing, and yet he knew that he would remember this talk because of how it was raw, yet flowed.

John woke up around noon because the sun was shining straight into his face. The reason being that Sherlock, who now stood proudly beside his window was holding the curtain away.

"I was sleeping you know. Whaddya want?"

"I know what Moriarty is planning."

John sat up not at all caring that his felled comforter revealed too much now. The detective paid little attention though as he came to sit on the bed.

"I went to our café after the talk with Pimsley and overheard these two men sitting at the bar. At first it just sounded like they were rambling about nothing, when one started talking about Prince Harry coming down here. I must say the man needed little coaxing from the other to launch into this whole speech about how it wasn't about honest caring like in the good old days, this tour that the prince was going on was all about politics."

Sherlock stopped on account that John looked completely lost," Where did I lose you John?"

"You didn't lose me idiot, I'm just thinking ahead. If you paid more attention, you'd know that thisis my focused face, not the confused one."

"To me John, all your 'faces' look confused. But anyway, apparently Parliament is voting to renew the education act on Wednesday while the Prince is here. So I did more research and found that according to the polls, Parliament will veto the bill. So I figure that since the Prince- who is pushing for the bill to be accepted- is doing this tour, he is building up his popularity and when the bill is vetoed, he will have the strong views of the populace as motive for the bill to be accepted."

"If it was me, I would have redirected the Prince's plans somehow, but since every government aid and official will be on guard for him he can't do it himself."

"Did you find out who that woman was?"

"No clue, I ran her face at Molly's lab and she's not listed anywhere, not even in the public tonight, we're supposed to meet up with my brother and case the place looking for anything 'suspicious'."

John sighed and flumped back onto his bed," I can't"

"What do you mean,'you can't'?"

The doctor turned over on his side facing the detective," I promised to go on a date with Shara at 6."

For a moment Sherlock's nostrils flared, " Who is this Shara?"

"The secretary from Mycroft's office."

The detective leaned away, his eyes wide," you're trying to tell me that you are going to ditch me on this _very_ important case for some bimbo you met yesterday."

John nodded choosing not to rile the man up any further by defending her. The detective was quiet as he walked soundlessly to the door. Watson flinched when the door slammed shut. Not to soon after, he heard the main door close as well. Now that all that drama was over he decided to get out of bed and get dressed. With a warm cuppa, he snuggled into the couch Pimsley's DVD already playing.

He paused once again when the woman looked at the screen. He noted her high cheekbones and plush lips, and how even in her loose clothes her body type was clearly athletic. He played the DVD in slow motion as she walked out of the shop and once again something was tugging at his mind telling him to remember, but whatever it was was just out of his reach. Fed up with not getting anywhere with that, he got dressed and went out to te grocer. He had told the sleuth to buy groceries the other day, but he knew that Holmes probably was lost in his own world and had not heard anything.

At the market, he was plagued by the fact that he could not remember why that woman's walk was so familiar. He bought everything on his list and then some because he knew that chocolate ice cream and cookies were the way to go when it came to getting the sleuth to forgive him. Also he bought to packs of cigarettes just in case those weren't enough. In line, he waited for some older woman to load her load ten cans of cat food onto the conveyor belt. The cashier was racking them up when suddenly on anout the fifteenth can, the register stopped working. Everyone in line groaned and started looking for open ones, but they all had lines longer than the one they stood in now.

"I'm sorry but this register is closed. Please go to another available one."

Now forced to go, the line dispersed while the woman and the cashier hashed out her total amount. Now in another line where the cashier was obviously new, he was forced to wait an hour, after having spent three hours shopping. By the time he left, his watch read 4:30, and that did not include the fifteen minute walk that it would take to get home. Thoroughly pissed off, he began walking the distance making it up to the apartment at 5 o'clock after dropping off Miss Hudson's groceries. Quickly he jumped in the shower and dressed, his alarm beeping at 5:45 signaling that it was time to go.

According to Mapquest the house he now stood in front of should be the correct one. So carefully and a bit nervously he walked up the steps of the brownstone knocked on the door. Nothing stirred. He tried again; again there wasno reply. Embarrassed, he walked back down ready to leave.

"John!" Shara yelled from the front door.

He turned to see her coming down te steps in a polka dot blue shirt and some jeans that accentuated her curves. He made a move to walk back up, but with a blasé wave of her hand, he stayed put. The walk to his favorite pizza place was ten minutes away from her house, but walking there beside her with her hand in his and talking unscripted again. It felt like the walk took seconds. Inside Guillermo showed him to the 'romance' table bedecked with intentional low lighting and a candle. They talked for hours as if they had known each other all their lives, and each opened up to the other like they never had before. John couldn't speak for Shara, but this was the most fun he had had in ages with another woman. The excitement rivaled even that of solving cases with Sherlock. He stopped mid chuckle remembering that the sleuth was at the airport right now casing the place.

"I'm sorry I need to go." John said as he stood up from the table, but Shara as there calm as can be.

"Don't worry about him. He's with his brother. He was picked up around 7:30."

"Oh. Either way it's already nine and I have a busy day tomorrow."

"I see. Well let's go then, I have a lot planned for tomorrow too."

John cocked his head to the side confused but all the same paid Guillermo for his service and chased after her.

"I didn't know Mycroft had you working at the airport tomorrow," he said once he finally caught up to her.

"I'm not. I have- other business to attend to there."

They turned down a side alley, one that they had not taken on the way to the pizzeria. Suddenly alarms went off in his head, now that she was ahead of him, he took the time to watch her walk. It matched the girl from the DVD. Swallowing he pulled out his pistol, and walked up closer to her, but she was ready for him. She turned into him from the left away from the pistol, her knee connecting solidly with his torso. He bowed cradling his stomach. She backed away, taking his gun with her. He looked up to see the barrel placed right between his eyes.

"I didn't want to do this. But you've given me no choice."

"You betrayed me."

"It wasn't personal. I liked you John Watson, but I can't afford to die right now," she raised up and swung across his face in an arc. The butt of the pistol knocking unconscious. Before he was gone completely, he heard her toss the gun in the trash and walk away.

He woke up the next morning with the mother of all headaches, but he paid no attention to it as he ran home to check on Sherlock. When he got there, the detective was laid out on the couch in his robe.

"You look terrible."

"Why are you so calm! The prince is going to be assassinated!"

"If that was true, they'd have to be a crack shot."

John walked around and saw that the Prince and his wife were safely covered on all sides by agents."

"It's Shara."

"What?"

"The assassin is Shara."

"You're right it was me," Shara said as she walked into the front room. her hair was died blond and cut short.

He looked at Sherlock who just smiled,' she works for me.'

"Nice to meet you, my name is Sarah."

The End

Happy Birthday Sarah,

3 Regina!


End file.
